


the evening hour that strives homewards

by glacecherie



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacecherie/pseuds/glacecherie
Summary: After all the celebrating and euphoria and noise, the quiet should probably feel startling to them.As it is, it just draws them closer together and makes them softer.





	the evening hour that strives homewards

**Author's Note:**

> title from ts eliot's "the wasteland"

They get back to the hotel at 4am, early by everyone else's standards, late by theirs. They're getting _old_ , as Alex is fond of reminding him, teasing.

It still hasn't sunk in that they won the cup. Nicke thinks he's going to wake up and it'll be like groundhog day, only they won't win in that scenario. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

Alex has turned the lamp on, but it's a weak sort of light. He's sat on the edge of the bed, fingers clumsy with tiredness, undoing his tie, eyes cast downward. It shouldn't be anything special but he looks so...happy exhausted rather than just plain exhausted. It's a good change.

The shadows cast his features in sharp, burnished relief - the shape of his nose, his cheekbones, his mouth, and the tenderness that suddenly makes itself known in Nicke's chest is so fathomless that it could knock him off his feet. It feels like they're the only two people in the world, and he's having to blink really fucking hard when he reaches out to help.

"Here." He murmurs roughly, smiling fondly when their eyes meet. Christ, he's so fucking _fond_.

Alex catches his hand when he's done freeing him, and he undoes the buttons of Nicke's cuffs, rolling one up just enough that he can lay a kiss to his wrist, then his palm, then where his fingers are still slightly fucked up.

"Knew we win." Alex says, and Nicke snorts.

"You can't have known that for sure. How would you have."

Alex runs his hands up Nicke's sides, hauling him forward by the belt loops until he's no option but to straddle Alex's lap. His thumb is still brushing back and forth over Nicke's pulse point, and it makes him shudder with a low sort of heat, something that can wait until morning to ignite properly.

Their eyes catch, and the frantic, delirious joy of winning has somehow progressed to this, a syrupy slow few seconds until their mouths meet, and Alex makes a quiet, happy noise. Nicke holds tighter, presses his hand over Alex's heart and cradles the back of his head with the other and lets himself be kissed for a while. They're not even the kind of kisses that lead to anything, but they feel something eerily like _home_.

They only break apart when Nicke yawns and Alex laughs at him for it.

"See! Old!" He crows, laughing probably too loud for their neighbours, and Nicke finds himself in a rare moment of it giving a single fuck, too happy and giddy and fucking _in love_ to.

[Later, when he's on the verge of sleep, and Alex is plastered against his back like a giant cat, Nicke thinks about how he'll still have all this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. He's never been as content in his life.]

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know that moment after the win where.....they were very close together.....faces pressed against each others faces.....Nicke getting teary......yeah. yea.......I'm coping just fine!!!!!!


End file.
